The Town's Monster
by belle-ny
Summary: One Shot. Mr. Gold is always composed and always in control... but not when it comes to his 17 year old shop assistant Belle French. Sequel to The Good Girl (it's not necessary to read the prequel to follow the story, but it helps to get the fuller picture). Gold's POV this time.


He is the most powerful man in Storybrooke - the town's monster. Gold knows what people call him behind his back. And he doesn't mind. He rather likes it actually. It certainly makes his life easier, because if those upstanding citizens, what they surely like to think about themselves, fear him they are less likely to try and deceive him. Gold knows their dirty little secrets first hand since it's him they come to whenever they really need something. Sooner or later they all do. And Gold is only too happy to help, for a price of course.

Gold much prefers his official antique business to anything else though. He finds peace among rare and beautiful things and procuring those satisfies the hunter in him.

And he definitely likes it a lot better then his rent rounds. Gold comes to collect himself because he found it more effective than any other way, however unpleasant it might be for his bad leg. Thankfully Storybrooke is not so big, he muses on the way back to the shop. He always enters through the back door. It's a habit so Gold only notices something out of the ordinary when he's half way inside and stills in place. His pretty little assistant is lying on the old cot he keeps by the wall for the cases when his leg starts acting out and he needs to give it a rest. She was supposed to be cleaning while he was out. Belle's eyes are closed and eyebrows creased. Her lower lip is trapped between her teeth. There is book lying not far from Belle's head and Gold thinks that she must've been reading and fell asleep.

At first Belle looks like she fell into a broken slumber and Gold feels the nudge to quietly leave the room - the girl was complaining about not sleeping well lately. But his eyes stray lower and Gold realizes his mistake. Belle's knees are slightly bent, the hem of her yellow sundress is up almost to her waist and her hand is moving slowly inside the waistband of her golden lace panties. He can't help but think that _gold_ looks good on her and the pun is very much intended.

Then even more unbelievable thing happens. Gold hears his name. It's something in between a moan and a whisper, but it's filled with so much longing that the sound goes straight to his groin.

One of Gold's hands is still on the doorknob. It twitches involuntary from his shock and the door hinge squeaks. His eyes shoot up to Belle's face and he finds her staring back at him. She is transfixed. Gold sees the panic flooding her blue irises. He knows Belle wants to run, but she is so startled she can't move. Her chest is the only part of the body that's moving and only because she's obviously been busy for a while and can't help the labored breathing.

The initial shock passes and he is able to fully take the picture in. Gold slightly tilts his head and lets his eyes feast openly admiring her. A side of his mouth curls up in the trademark smirk. Angelic daughter of a florist is not so angelic after all, pleasuring herself in the backroom if his shop. Suddenly Gold catches himself thinking that he's never seen anything more erotic or beautiful.

Without breaking their eye contact for a split second, he closes the door and slowly approaches the cot. He sits down propping himself on one hand. Now Belle's body is positioned in the space between his hips and the arm he's using for support. Gold studies her face. There is no fear resulting from the development of events, just wonder.

"Show me." He finally whispers.

She said his name earlier, calling to Gold in her fantasy and it's only logical that he should feel invited to watch. Belle blinks, not sure of what he's asking for. Gold looks down at her lower belly and when their eyes meet again he sees understanding. Belle gulps. It's a challenge and a few seconds later she accepts it. Her fingers start moving again.

Gold's free hand goes to caress a side of her face and neck. Belle moans and leans closer. Then his fingers ghost over the swell of Belle's breast and she arches into the touch wanting more contact.

"So eager?" He murmurs. It's more of an observation than a question and Gold is pleased with it.

It sets his mind at rest. Yes, Gold wants her and feels the animalistic urge to rip Belle's dress off and worship her body till the quiet whisper of his name on her lips turns into a scream. But he only wants her willing, needing. The idea of Belle going along with this because he is her employer and her father is in his debt disgusts Gold. There are lines that even the town's monster won't cross. Not with Belle, not with anyone.

Belle grows impatient. She tries to guide his hand with hers and Gold takes it away earning a whimper of protest.

"Nuh-uh, Ms. French. You control your hand. I control mine."

He sees a flash of anger in girl's eyes and laughs. She doesn't know it yet, but it will only heighten her pleasure. Gold's thoughts are suddenly interrupted when he feels her hand on his inner thigh slowly going up. It's a small town and Gold is sure that Belle isn't dating and most likely never has, but, God in haven, what has she been reading that she knows to move her hand in the way that's making him harder by the second? Although Gold suspects that it's just his body response to Belle's touch, regardless to the technique. Does she even realize what she's doing to him?

"You said I control my hand." She returns Gold's own words to him in response to the bewildered look on his face.

Gold sees he underestimated her. Belle is just as good and careful at listening as he is at wording. Little minx, she knows exactly what she's doing and, what's more, she likes it. She wants him to feel the same desperate need he evoked in her.

Gold was going to just help Belle finish what she started. He wasn't going to participate, wasn't going to lose control. But Belle changes the game when she unzips his pants and her hand sneaks inside. Gold dimly realizes it's the same hand that's just been in her panties right when her palm closes around his hardness and suppressing a groan is not humanly possible. His whole body shudders.

"Belle…" It's a plea and a warning, her last chance to stop.

She doesn't. Belle's hand starts sliding up and down his shaft and Gold is gone. Before he knows it, Gold leans down and attacks her lips. Belle opens up for him immediately welcoming his tongue with hers and he all but ravages her. Then his mouth strays from her lips, along the line of Belle's jaw and down her throat. In the surges of passion Gold bites down at the juncture between her neck and shoulder not even caring if it leaves a mark or not. He simply doesn't have enough presence of mind at the moment. Belle's taste on his lips and her scent in his lungs are intoxicating and Gold is too high to think about the consequences of such recklessness.

There is no more teasing or challenging, just mutual hunger for each other and for more.

Belle mewls and wreathes under him and it spurs Gold on. His hand goes down and in between her thighs. All the preparative work is done – she's wet and hot and ready. One of his fingers easily slips inside her. Belle keens. She arches her back and he feels her grip on his cock tightening.

Gold feels the burning need twisting his gut. The sight of his virginal little assistant in the grip of lust with her head thrown back, tousled hair and flushed skin is nearly too much. And the thought that he did this to her arouses Gold all the more if that's even possible. He's desperate to feel the sweet completion and hear Belle screaming for him.

* * *

Gold wakes up sharply, heart is pounding in his chest. New day is just breaking outside his window. Grunting he sits up in bed and rubs his face to chase the after sleep haziness away. Gold wishes he didn't, but he remembers the dream all too well. He can almost still taste Belle on his lips.

He lowers his legs to the floor to go the bathroom, but stops in his tracks when his brain detects something wet and sticky in his pajama pants. The realization makes Gold frown. He came in his sleep. Splendid. Apparently he is not just lusting after a teenager anymore, now he's becoming one himself.

Gold laughs mirthlessly at the irony - so much for the most powerful man in Storybrooke. The town's monster who feels like a caged beast, a prisoner of his own desires that haunt him even in his dreams. And the only key is in the hands of the purest creature he's ever met.


End file.
